An Unexpected Suitor
by Slothzar
Summary: Hawke and Varric are best friends, until they become a whole lot more. F!Hawke x Varric, rated M for future chapters.
1. Inroduction

_AN: There's not enough Varric fics out there so I decided to fix that. That chest hair! Who can resist? I've got lots of this written so expect updates soon. Enjoy!~_

She liked him from the moment she saw him.

At first, they were just friends. Hawke had always been good with words and it was refreshing to be able to go toe to toe with someone with equal (or perhaps more) verbal wit. Then as he showed her how Kirkwall really worked, from Hightown to Lowtown, she found herself looking up to the man, despite his small stature. She admired his attitude towards life, his easygoing nature, and his cleverness. She felt more herself around him, sharper, clearer, as if her mind needed to be on the lookout for new ways to amuse the dwarf with her words.

Soon it translated into battle. She knew he could hold his own and that Bianca would never let any harm come to him. But she still fought a bit harder when he was with her, her daggers flashing as she tried to take out anyone who could potentially overtake him.

Hawke wasn't sure when it changed further. Somewhere between the long nights spent at the Hanged Man, telling each other the wildest and funniest tales they could imagine and fighting for each other's lives in the Deep Roads. Sometime after Hawke lost her mother, that she was sure of. Sometime after she became nobility and every man was vying for her favor. It was definitely after all her casual flirting had caught up to her and her own companions were at her door looking for comfort and affection. She grimaced at the awkward memory.

Varric Tethras. Hawke wasn't sure how or why quite yet, but she was sure she liked him. And she had a sneaking suspicion he returned her feelings.


	2. Pickpocket

**Pickpocket**

Varric had a lot of questions about his new companion as they walked through Hightown one afternoon. Who was this "Hawke" anyway? He looked up at her, her profile darkened by the sun behind her. Her nose came to a delicate point and her lips were full and red. A short crop of dark hair sat messily atop her head, its crest rising and falling with her stride. She noticed his eyes were on her and raised a perfectly arched brow before giving a wink with her crystalline blue eyes.

 _Do all the girls in Lothering look like that?_ Varric nearly tripped.

He continued evaluating the Fereldan in a less…confusing manner. He noticed a bit of blood on her armor, but her daggers were spotless. _Hard not to like a woman who takes care of her weapons_ , he decided, thinking of Bianca. He wondered how many she'd felled with those blades. From what his contacts had to say, it was a lot.

There was one thing that had been nagging at him since they'd met though. How could a woman so adept at combat, and who was sharp enough to survive the smuggling rings of Kirkwall, let herself get pickpocketed by a common thief? He recalled how embarrassed she was at their first encounter. Her cheeks were crimson and her voice was tight and controlled, despite her attempts to laugh off the event as a careless mistake. She'd been kind enough though, and seemed glad to have met him.

 _I wonder…_ Varric smirked as he edged closer to the rogue. She didn't seem to notice and continued chatting with Aveline. The dwarf slowly crept his hand closer to her to her belt, and just when he was expecting to feel the pleasant weight of coin in his hand, Hawke shifted her body and stopped in her tracks so his hand landed square on her ass. He nearly ran into her headfirst.

Aveline and Bethany turned to see what the commotion was about. Aveline gave a stern look of disapproval while Hawke's seemingly innocent sister couldn't seem to stop giggling.

"I say, Varric," Hawke said in a falsely haughty tone. "Just because you have easier access to my backside doesn't mean it's a free-for-all down there."

The dwarf realized his hand still lay on his prize and quickly withdrew it. "My apologies, Hawke," he recovered quickly. "I was just…checking your assets."

Hawke laughed, a light and airy sound. "A pun? My, you must be desperate for a comeback." She grinned at him, leaning down so she could look him right in the eye. "Feel free to try again any time you like. I'll be ready." And with that she resumed walking, linking arms with Bethany, who was still stifling laughter. The sisters' heads leaned together in a conspiratorial fashion.

Eventually Varric realized their forms were growing smaller in the distance and hurried to catch up. _How the hell did she do that?_

"Oh come on, sister," Bethany sighed. "We've been at this for hours, let's go to bed."

"Not until I have it down perfectly," Hawke insisted. "Again."

The elder sister stood perfectly still in their tiny shared bedroom in Lowtown. She closed her eyes and waited for a touch, a sound, a breath. Suddenly she swiveled, catching her sister's wrist in a tight grip.

"You're getting much better!" Bethany noted, pulling her arm back.

"That'll show that know-it-all dwarf I can handle myself," Hawke grinned.


	3. Nickname

**Nickname**

"I want a nickname."

"What?" Varric looked up from cleaning his crossbow at his companion sitting across from him.

"Everyone else has one," Hawke replied, pouting. His eyes flicked to her painted red lips before he could stop himself. The corner of her mouth twitched with amusement. "Come now, Varric," she purred, leaning forward over the table to give him a better view of her chest. "It isn't fair."

They were at the Hanged Man, an establishment usually stuffed full to the brim with bawdy drunks, harassed waitresses, and one scantily clad pirate who nobody could seem to stop staring at. But tonight Varric's eyes were glued to Hawke, who was practically sprawled before him. She'd abandoned her usual armor for a lightweight tunic; to his agony, the strings which held it closed were loosened ever so slightly and he wondered if she'd done that on purpose. He didn't know her well enough yet to know if that was the way she normally wore her shirts—it wasn't.

He recovered quickly. "Well, what would you have me call you, Serah Hawke?"

Her nose wrinkled. "Certainly not serah. I hardly think a dingy apartment in Lowtown earns me that title."

Varric grinned and continued. "Of course, m'lady. Whatever you desire."

"Oh I don't think you're ready to hear what I desire quite yet," Hawke smirked flirtatiously and he could have sworn she batted her eyelashes at him.

Varric chuckled and leaned back in his chair. "Let's talk names, Hawke." He changed the subject before he slipped and made a mistake. His words were usually his weapon, but around Hawke they tended to turn against their master. Okay, so maybe part of that was the ale. He absentmindedly wondered how much he'd had. His eyes moved to Hawke again and he noticed her tankards matched his in number. _Well color me impressed_ , he mused. Not a lot of people could keep up with a dwarf, much less a Tethras.

Hawke pushed away from the table, removing her ample bosom from his view, flooding him with both disappointment and relief. He noted her blue eyes were glossy and her movements were more fluid. "Right. So Daisy's already taken. What a shame."

They both snorted at the notion of calling the warrior such a frilly name. The dwarf thought for a moment before coming to a sudden realization. "Hold on. It's just occurred to me that I, your most trusted weaver of tales, don't even know your first name. Now what kind of storyteller would I be if I didn't know the name of the main character?"

Hawke laughed again; the sound was light and carefree. It also happened to be Varric's favorite. Her smile lingered after her laugh left her lips and she looked at the dwarf mischievously. "Guess."

"Seriously?"

"Go on. I'm curious," Hawke prompted.

Varric made a show of cracking his fingers and taking a big swig of ale. "Alright then. Let's see. Stephanie."

Hawke made a face. "Really? _That's_ your first guess?"

"It rhymes with Bethany," Varric replied simply. "Thought I'd rule out the obvious."

"In that case, don't bother with 'Barver' or something awful like that," Hawke retorted.

Varric raised his brow. It wasn't often that Hawke mentioned her dead brother. That ale must be stronger than he'd realized. "Okay, how about… Celene."

Hawke laughed. "Maker, now I sound like a mage, or some sort of high priestess."

"It's a pretty name," Varric replied smoothly, "for a pretty lady."

"Ah yes, _especially_ when I get blood and guts on me," Hawke batted her eyelashes theatrically and ran her fingers through her short crop of dark hair. Despite her casual manner her cheeks were tinted pink from the compliment. But maybe that was the ale again.

"Okay, okay," Varric chuckled and leaned forward with mock seriousness. "Obviously I'm not getting any closer with this. How about a hint?"

Hawke leaned forward as well. Their faces were quite close now. "You'll never guess it." Her breath felt warm on his face. She caught his eyes with her bright blue ones before finishing with, "It's Jenna."

"Jenna," Varric repeated carefully, the word feeling strange yet pleasurable on his lips. After a pause he grinned, "So, Jenny?"

Hawke rolled her eyes, " _Very_ creative."

He quickly backtracked. "Alright, alright, no need to get sarcastic. Well, _more_ sarcastic."

Hawke stuck her tongue out at him and he smiled at the sight of someone so tough acting like such a child.

He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "So, Jenna…What sort of name would suit you best?" He took a moment to think about his relatively new companion. She was beautiful, of course. No amount of blood and guts could change that. And Ancestors, was she sharp. He recalled with a grin the first time he'd tried to pickpocket her and ended up with his hand on her ass.

Yes, Hawke was more than just a pretty face; her daggers cut through the air with ease, her tongue was as sharp as her wit, and yet despite all that she was surprisingly kind and good hearted. He'd seen her toss more than a fair amount of coins to the Ferelden refugees lining the streets of Darktown.

To top it all off, he found himself frighteningly drawn to her. His letters to Bianca had all but trickled down to nothing as he found himself spending more and more time with the Ferelden rogue. He enjoyed teaching her the streets of Kirkwall, showing her the best shops to buy sweets, the beaches with the least amount of trash littering the sand, and the best place to get fresh fish.

"Will you hurry up?" Hawke interrupted loudly, enhancing the effect by banging her empty tankard on the table.

 _Another ale down_ , he noted. From across the room he caught the waitress's eye and gave a near imperceptible shake of his head. She nodded in response. _Can't have her too sloshed to get home_. He turned to address Hawke once more. "Sorry, sweetheart, you're a complicated gal."

"That's it!" Hawke laughed. "Sweetheart." She stood abruptly to leave, only swaying slightly as the alcohol flooded her system.

Varric wasn't too surprised. She'd had her fair share, but she'd be fine for the short walk home. What did surprise him was when she leaned over and planted a kiss on to top of his head. When she pulled away she was grinning; Varric was blinking owlishly. "I like that, Varric. I like that a lot."


	4. Competition

**Competition**

Hawke was a flirt. She couldn't help herself. Put a handsome man or a pretty lady in her line of sight and she was the first to come up with some inappropriate comment. It was interesting to Varric that she never pursued her targets with much more than that. She was in it for the sport, and seemed bored or even uncomfortable by anything more. He noted that she hardly ever flirted with Isabella. _She's probably too scared she'll end up in her bed._

And so it was with little surprise that one otherwise quiet evening at the Hanged Man was interrupted when Hawke burst into his quarters, a frazzled look on her face.

"Ugh, _men_ ," she said simply, before slumping into the nearest chair.

"What happened this time, Hawke?" Varric asked as he got up to pour her a drink. He was used to her regular intrusions into his quarters. In fact he rather enjoyed that she sought him out for advice.

"This time? I wasn't aware I was getting a reputation." She looked into the fire and frowned.

"You've had your string of…pursuers," he replied coolly as he handed her a glass of whiskey. He broke into a grin and placed a hand on her shoulder in an effort to lighten her mood. "C'mon, Jenna, you can tell me. What happened?"

"Oh it was Anders," she replied flatly. "I make one harmless joke and he gets all, 'stay away from me, I'm dangerous'." She stuck her tongue out in an adorable fashion. "Pfft. Dangerous. I think I've handled myself quite well enough that by this point I shouldn't have to be warned off by… by skinny birdmen and mopey elves!"

He pulled his hand from her shoulder as the hairs on the back of his neck pricked up. _Mopey elves? So she's been talking to Fenris too._ He told himself it was concern for his flirtatious friend—he almost believed it, too. "Well, Anders is… complicated. So is Fenris. You've picked some difficult men to woo, Hawke."

"I'm not _wooing_ them," Hawke snapped. "I like to joke. It's not _my_ fault they take it so seriously."

"So you're not pursuing them?"

"Why the sudden interest, Varric?" Hawke grinned mischievously.

"I'm just trying to figure out why you lead these men on like they're a mabari on a leash."

"No, I'm not interested in them. Not like that." She swung her boots onto the table.

"Anders seems…mostly well adjusted," Varric offered. The other night in the tavern he'd found the poor mage pining away in the tavern and he'd promised him he'd put in a good word with Hawke.

"Pfft. If he's well-adjusted, then I'm a fire-breathing nug," Hawke snorted.

"And Fenris?"

"Also crazy. Plus he's too skinny," Hawke replied simply. "I like my men a little heartier than that." She eyed Varric conspicuously. Varric chose to ignore the comment and after a moment Hawke shrugged. "Well, looks like I'll have to cut my tongue off or else it's no more friends for me."

"We're friends and you seem to be doing just fine," Varric countered.

"Well that's different," Hawke replied smiling.

"Oh?" Varric's brows rose. _Different good or different bad?_

"I actually quite like you," she said simply.

The dwarf shook his head and chuckled. "You're doing it again, Hawke."

"Doing what?" Hawke smiled broadly. Her eyes were sparkling with delight. She really did enjoy the chase.

"Flirting with no intention," Varric replied patiently, taking another sip from his drink.

"Who says I don't have an intention?" Hawke shot back immediately.

Varric nearly choked. Surely this was another joke. Yet Hawke was giving him the most curious look; a slight smile lay on her lips but her eyes were sharp and serious. He opened his mouth to reply and for once found himself at a loss for words.

Her smile faltered. She quickly stood, cheeks burning. "Right. Well, thanks for the advice, Varric. You're… a good friend as always."

Varric's mouth opened and closed again, but before he had a chance to speak she was already gone.

"Sister?" Bethany mumbled, half asleep. "What on earth were you doing out this late?"

Hawke looked up guiltily from her crouched position. She'd been climbing through their window. _Clearly not in top form tonight_ , she realized. Jenna had done this hundreds of times without waking her sleeping sibling. She cleared her throat awkwardly. "Oh you know, this and that." Her voice was tight and strained. She hoped her sister wouldn't notice.

But Bethany smiled sympathetically, scooted over, and patted the bed. "Come tell me what happened."

Hawke gave a thin smile and finished her less than graceful entrance. Kicking off her boots, she climbed into bed next to her sister.

"What's wrong?" she asked with concern. "Was it Anders?"

Hawke rolled her eyes. "Everyone seems to think so, but no, it was not."

"Fenri—"

"And it was not Fenris or Isabella, thank you. Maybe Varric was right."

"Varric?" Bethany cocked her head and peered closer at her sister. "Oh Maker. You're in love with _Varric_."

"Who said anything about love?" Hawke snapped, bringing her knees into her chest. The mage gave her a firm look and Hawke was forced to crack the tiniest of admitting smiles.

"I knew it!" Bethany crooned.

"Shh! Do you want to wake up all of Lowtown with this new information?" Hawke hissed.

"Sorry," Bethany whispered, recovering slightly. "So what happened? Did you tell him?"

"He didn't believe me," Hawke said shortly. "He thought it was a joke. I'm a bloody joke to him."

"Oh Jenna, you know that's not true." Bethany placed a comforting hand on her sister's back. "He was probably just surprised. You do have a habit of flirting with nearly everyone… he just didn't know you actually meant it."

Hawke sighed and flopped back onto the bed. "I'm never flirting again."

"Right," Bethany smirked. "I'll believe that when I see it."


End file.
